Sine Qua Non
by Every Shade of Blue
Summary: sine qua non - (Latin, literally "without which not") an indispensable condition, element, or factor; something essential. For Matt Devlin, Alesha Phillips, and Ronnie Brooks, that oh-so-important thing is each other and the family they've become. [AU for Deal and afterward, in which Matt most certainly does not die. Mattesha, Matt & Ronnie father/son fluff.]
1. Ronnie

A/N: I've kind of just started watching LOUK, but I'm already really attached to Matt and I know what happens to him, so I felt that this had to be done. I tried to look stuff up to keep everything accurate, and I apologize for anything that's not.

Also, I do not, in any way, shape, or form, own Law and Order: UK. If I did, Jamie would _never have been allowed to_ _leave._

* * *

Chapter 1: Ronnie

_Matt saw the gun in the window of the black SUV before you did, and he reacted immediately, his first instinct to grab for Kaden and Alesha and get them on the ground, out of harm's way. But you reacted almost as fast, and the only thing on your mind was Matt. He was risking his life, thinking of others first as he always did, but you'd be damned if you let anything happen to him. And so, barely a split second after he got to Alesha, at the same instant that a rapid series of small flashes from the car window told you that the gunman had fired, you reached Matt and pushed him down. And then something slammed into you with enormous force, flinging you backward onto the ground, and suddenly there was blood everywhere. You could hear Matt's frantic voice, knew he was all right, but you – you were certainly not all right, because you couldn't move. And then you could see Matt, he was right next to you, looking down at you, and he was saying something – it could have been your name, but you weren't really sure – and you couldn't hear him, you couldn't hear anything properly. Your vision was beginning to blur, and then you realized that your chest hurt and suddenly realized that that was where the blood was coming from._

You've been shot, Ronnie, _you tell yourself dimly, waiting for it to sink in. You've been shot because you took the bullets that were meant for Matt. You saved Matty._

_ Your last coherent thought before you sink into oblivion is that there are much worse ways to go…_

The first thing you're aware of is a sound, small, persistent, rhythmic. Truth be told, it's almost annoying. You wonder if maybe it'll stop after a while, but it never does, so you decide to try to ignore it. Instead, you busy yourself with the task of figuring out just where you are. After a long moment, you remember that sound, and you can only think of one place where it might belong: in a hospital. What the hell are you doing in a hospital? No, wait. Hang on…

You were shot. That was it. Outside the courthouse.

An image comes to mind, one that now seems to be permanently engrained in your memory: the car, the hand in the window with the gun, Matt pushing the kid and Alesha out of the way, Matt putting himself in danger...

Suddenly, you realize that there's another sound in the room, somewhere nearby. It sounds like deep, even breathing.

Slowly, using a lot more effort than it seems like you should have to, you open your eyes – and there's your boy, slumped over in a chair next to your bed, his head resting on his shoulder, fast asleep.

Matt looks awful. His face is pale and lined with worry, not quite as youthful and innocent as you're used to seeing. His clothes are rumpled, and his usually carefully styled hair is sticking up in all directions. There are dark circles under his eyes, making you wonder if he's gotten any sleep before now. You're not sure how long you've been here, but it's been at least a few days judging by Matt's stubble. Four large coffee cups sit on the small nightstand next to him, and the bin underneath it is overflowing with many more.

As you watch, it becomes obvious that Matt's not sleeping soundly. His eyes flicker rapidly under his lids, and after a while he begins to whimper quietly, his head moving from side to side. He's even talking in his sleep.

"No… no! Hang on… please, Dad…"

You frown slightly at that. As far as you know, Matt never had a good relationship with his father. He all but called the man a bastard once, and you're more than a little sure that Matt was abused as a child. You always wondered if his father was behind it, but you never wanted to ask. You couldn't change the past, and you figured it would be better for Matt if he didn't have to relive it, so you settled for looking after the kid as best you could and not bringing up any painful memories if you could avoid it. But maybe Matt _couldn't _avoid it. Could he really still be having nightmares about his father?

"Please hang on! Please…" Even in his sleep, he sounds frightened, close to tears. But now you're even more confused. Even in a dream, why would he be talking to his father like that?

It's when he starts shaking that you decide to wake him. This might be the first time he's slept in days, but you can't leave this boy that you love like a son at the mercy of his nightmare. The way he's draped over the arm of his chair, his hand is hanging down right next to your bed. You try to reach for it, but your own hand feels strangely heavy. After a long moment, though, you finally succeed in gripping his forearm.

"Matt." Your voice is weak, but it's enough to wake him nonetheless.

"Dad?"

The sleepy utterance is fearful, almost childlike, and as you look up into a pair of very confused blue eyes, you're startled to realize that you're Matt's surrogate father just as much as he's your surrogate son.

Suddenly realizing what woke him, Matt bolts upright in his chair, leaning over you, eyes wide with disbelief. "D- Ronnie?"

You're well aware that he just stopped himself from calling you 'Dad' again, and you realize that it must be because he doesn't know just how strong your paternal feelings for him are. Makes sense, unfortunately. It's not like the two of you have ever sat down and had a chat about your feelings.

Matt's still watching you, apparently at a loss for words as he satisfies himself that you're still breathing, that you haven't left him, that you're really awake. In all the years you've known him, you've rarely seen him look so vulnerable, so afraid. You wish there was some way to tell him how sorry you are for letting him spend so long worrying that he was going to lose the only real dad he's ever known, but you can't think of anything that sounds nearly good enough and it's hard to talk anyway, so you do the next best thing: you hug him.

He seems surprised at first – truth be told, you are, too – but he relaxes quickly, holding onto you tightly. It hurts a bit, but you don't care. You can hear him sniffling quietly as he presses his face against your shoulder, so you do your best to reassure him.

"It's all right, Matty. I'm not going anywhere, son."

"You promise?" he asks in a small, slightly muffled voice. He still sounds so childlike, telling you just how harsh a toll the fear of the last few days has taken on him. He spent probably his entire childhood without a proper father, must have learned to live without needing one. But now he has you. He _needs _you.

"I promise," you answer him gently, needing him to know how much you love him, and that, if you have your way, you'll never leave him.

The entire time you're in the hospital, Matt hardly leaves your side. You were worried about him at first; it was obvious that he hadn't been taking care of himself. He was too worried about you. Now, though, he looks much better. He's taken to sleeping on a cot that had been put in your room when your doctor and nurses had realized that he wasn't planning on leaving. Why he hadn't used it before you woke up is beyond you, but he's using it now, and that's what really matters. He seems to be eating real meals now, too, instead of just drinking coffee; sometimes he eats in the hospital cafeteria, and sometimes Alesha brings him something better when she stops in to visit – which happens suspiciously often. Watching the way they interact with each other, you quickly decide that if the two of them aren't an item by the time you leave the hospital, you'll have failed in your job as a surrogate father.

You aren't the only one who sees it, either. Your daughters have stopped by a few times – bringing your newborn grandson with them, of course – and, as a whole, your relationship with both of them is better than it's been in years. You're pretty sure Matt had something to do with that. You know they've spent quite a bit of time talking to him, and you have a strong feeling that he was the one who told them how long you've been sober, as well as assuring them of how much of a dad you've been to him. The fact that they like Matty so much – and, let's face it, who doesn't? – seems to work in your favor, and you've had several conversations about where your relationship is now and where it's going. You didn't even have to grovel and apologize as much as you thought you'd have to; seems Matt took care of that, too.

One day, Matt is sleeping on the cot on the far side of your room when your daughters come in with the baby, claiming the two chairs on either side of your bed and depositing the little boy in your waiting arms. As you hold him, rocking him gently, the girls fawn over Matt, going on and on about – in their words – how adorable and sweet and lovely he is. Then Alesha enters, and you know from the looks on your girls' faces that you don't need to tell them that Matt's just as taken as they are. The smile on Alesha's face when she sees him sleeping there gives it away immediately, and her frequent glances over her shoulder at him only serve to further cement the idea in everyone's minds. And as if that isn't enough, Matt's surprisingly shy, goofy grin when he wakes up and sees her leaves both of your daughters giggling madly, unable to explain why without embarrassing the two people in question. Watching the two of them that for the rest of the afternoon, you find it ridiculously hard to believe that neither of them is aware of the other's feelings. When Matt gets flirty, Alesha flirts right back; every time he thinks she's not looking, Matt unconsciously fixes his hair, obviously trying to impress her; when his hand brushes against hers – which happens far too often to be accidental – she bites her lip and smiles. And yet, unbelievably, neither of them notices.

This may be harder than you thought.

The next day when you're alone with Matt, you take to questioning him about Alesha. You're not exactly being subtle, but you figure that at the rate they're going, subtlety won't have them married until they're fifty. So you try a different approach.

"How do you feel about Alesha?"

Matt nearly chokes on his tea, and then, far too late, tries to play it cool. "What do you mean? We're mates. Always have been. Why would anything be different now?"

"No need to get defensive, I was just asking," you answer casually.

Predictably, Matt's answer is, "I'm not being defensive!" Realizing his mistake, he takes a large gulp of his drink.

"Burn your tongue?" you ask in amusement as his eyes water.

He nods dejectedly.

"Maybe you should tell me the truth, then. How do you really feel about Alesha?"

"She… I…" He flounders for a moment. "You know… I – I like her, a bit…"

"A bit?" you laugh incredulously. "_A bit? _Matty, mate, she walks into a room and you all but fall off your bloody chair. I think that's more than a bit."

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "All right, all right. More than a bit. I like her more than a bit."

"How much more?" You've just seen Alesha appear in the doorway behind Matt. He doesn't know she's there. You hope she keeps it that way until he can answer your question properly. "You like Alesha how much more than a bit?" That gets her attention, and she freezes where she stands.

"I…" He mutters something too quiet to be intelligible.

"You _what?_"

"_I love her! _Okay? I love Alesha. Happy?"

You don't answer, because Alesha has just stepped into the room. "You what?" She's staring at him in shock, looking like she's holding her breath.

Matt looks simultaneously hopeful and downright terrified. "Alesha! I… I…" He looks at you for help, but you don't offer any. So he turns back to Alesha and says very slowly, "I love you…"

She stares at him for a moment longer – and then she takes hold of the front of his jacket and pulls him to his feet, standing very, very close. Baby blue eyes stare unblinking into warm brown ones for a long moment, until at last Alesha breaks the silence.

"I love you, too."

And then she pushes him back against the wall and proceeds to snog him senseless. You try not to watch – after all, he's practically your kid – but something keeps drawing your gaze back to them. You've never seen two people so obviously, hopelessly, head-over-heals in love. The way they're holding each other, tightly, protectively, as if they'll never let go, tells you everything that you need to know. Matt's going to look after Alesha, sure – and she's going to look after him right back.

Matt Devlin and Alesha Phillips were made for each other.

…But that doesn't mean you're going to let them stand there and make out in front of you anytime they please. "Ahem."

They don't seem to notice.

"_Ahem._"

Finally, they come up for air, beaming brilliantly. Matt grins at you, well aware that this wouldn't have happened without your intervention. "Thanks, mate."

You shrug nonchalantly. "What are surrogate dads for, anyway?"

You can see the exact moment when Matt realizes that he now has both the woman he loves and a father who loves him, and the smile on his face when he does could have lit up the darkest room.


	2. Alesha

Chapter 2: Alesha

Part of you had thought this day would never come. But on the other hand, part of you had always known it would. You had always been in love with Matt. From the very first time you saw him, the new kid on the block, trotting along in Ronnie's shadow, you had felt something for him. At the time, of course, it hadn't been anything more than puppy love. He was pretty, sure, but maybe just a little _too _pretty. And he definitely flirted too much. But the more you got to know him, the more you came to realize that the playboy face and attitude hid a heart of gold. He could do so much more than flirt. He was funny and clever and sweet, and in no time at all, his courage and his loyalty to the people he cared about had cemented his place in your heart.

And now, _finally_, you were going to marry him.

The day was perfect: warm, but not too warm; bright and sunny; just a faint nip of fall in the air as the earliest of the leaves began to change color. You and Matt had decided to forgo many of the aspects of a traditional wedding. Neither of you were particularly close to most of your families, so you had opted for a small ceremony: just your cousin and Matt's younger sister, and Ronnie, James, Natalie, George, and some of your other friends from the CPS and CID. You've altered the usual wedding fashions as well. Your dress is a pale blue, and Matt's bowtie and cummerbund are a brighter blue, somehow managing to match both your dress and his gorgeous eyes.

Not that you'd seen him yet. That particular tradition was one you'd chosen to keep. You wanted that moment, the one where you saw each other in your wedding clothes for the first time and the sight took your breath away.

The moment doesn't disappoint. When you see him, every image of your wedding that you ever fantasized about as a little girl vanishes instantly, because Matt Devlin easily tops them all. And when he sees you, his face is the cutest you've ever seen, adoration shining from his eyes as he watches you walk slowly toward him. You know this is the most perfect moment of your life.

The two of you had a lot to talk about before you got married. You knew Matt had baggage. Hell, so did you. But neither of you were willing to let it stop you, so it all came out. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

You had always suspected that Matt had been abused as a child. Now you knew you were right. As it turned out, his father had been a heavy drinker, and Matt, as the smallest, youngest, and most introverted of all the boys in the family had been the one to bear the brunt of his father's violent behavior. That was probably why he was so careful to keep Ronnie from falling off the wagon, you realized. He had a real father figure now, and he was terrified of losing that. It was heartbreaking to listen to him talk so matter-of-factly about everything, and even worse when it suddenly hit you that the personable, outgoing Matt Devlin that you thought you knew so well was the direct result of what his father had done to him when he was young. And you could see in Matt's eyes that he knew it, too. You know you'll never forget the words he said in that moment.

"I always thought that maybe if I could be like everyone else, he'd like me more. So I tried to – to make myself like them, and now… now I guess it's just who I am. Only sometimes, I get so _tired,_ and I feel like I just can't do it anymore. I have to go home and make some tea or read a book and just… be alone." And then he looked up at you with so much vulnerability in those honest baby blues that it made you want to cry. "I made myself what I thought he wanted me to be, but it never helped. He still got drunk and he still – still beat me. And now what scares me the most is where I'd be if he _hadn't_. The thing is, it –" He paused for a long moment, struggling either to come up with the right words or to regain control of his emotions. "It just _hurts_," he said finally, his eyes again begging you to understand. "It's terrifying and it hurts, knowing that if he hadn't done what he did to me, I probably wouldn't be here, I wouldn't have you, or – or any of this. I want to hate him, but I can't. He spent so many years _abusing _me, and I'm still stuck feeling like I – like I _owe him _something!" His anguish and frustration were obvious by the time he finished. You could tell he'd never told anyone else about this before, not even Ronnie, his best friend and practically his dad. It was overwhelming to realize that he trusted you so absolutely, more than anyone else he knew, and you didn't know what to say, so you settled for holding him. The two of you laid there on your couch, your arms around him and his head on your shoulder while you played with his hair, feeling him slowly relax against you. And after a long time, it was Matt who finally broke the silence.

"You know, because of what he did to me, I never… I never feel _safe _with people. Once I get to know someone, I can be comfortable, maybe, but safe is so different. Until I came to the CID, I didn't even know what it was. But then I met Ronnie, and – well, to be honest I think I annoyed him at first," he laughed quietly, "but after that, once he got used to having me around… one day he just started treating me like I was his own kid. It was the first time I had any idea of what it was like to have a proper dad. And the first time I ever felt safe." He looked up at you again, brushing a hand over your cheek. "You were the second. The first time I met you, I knew there was something different about you, because you made me feel safe." That had been the end of most coherent conversation for that particular night.

Not too long after that, though, you had discovered that another consequence of his father's mistreatment was that he was afraid of becoming a father himself. He was convinced that he couldn't do it, afraid that he'd mistreat his own children in the same way that his father had abused him. But you knew very well that he wouldn't. Matt was the kindest man you'd ever known, and you'd never seen him drink nearly as heavily as his father apparently had, so matter how stressed he was. Matt would be a wonderful father, and you were quick to assure him of that. You couldn't be sure that he had entirely believed you, but at least he was open to the possibility of children now, and that was all you really wanted. When the time came, he'd find out that you were right.

As for you, your biggest issue for a few years now had been the continuing aftereffects of your rape. That had come up fairly early in your relationship, the first time you had been with Matt. By now, you know you'll never forget it, but it no longer has any hold over you. Matt is just so different from Merrick. Everything he does when you're with him is so gentle, so passionate. He never stops being concerned about you, about whether you're happy and comfortable and enjoying yourself. And with him, you always are. With Merrick, you'd seen nothing but malice in his eyes; with Matt there was nothing but pure love. This amazing young man had claimed you, body and soul, and you knew you would always be safe with him.

And now here you are, your hands held tightly in his as the two of you recite your vows, as you slip the wedding bands you picked out onto each other's fingers, as you share your first kiss as husband and wife.

After the ceremony, when you finally manage to get a moment to yourselves at your reception, the first thing Matt does is kiss you soundly, pulling you against his chest and smiling as you snuggle into his arms. You never tire of the way he feels when he holds you, those strong arms a warm, loving barrier between you and the unlucky rest of the world.

"So what do you think, then?" you ask quietly, smiling up at him. "Alesha Devlin? Alesha Phillips-Devlin?"

"I think you should do whatever you want, love," Matt answers, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head. "As long as you're my 'Lesh, it doesn't matter so much what comes after."

"You know I'll be your 'Lesh as long as you're my Matty," you tease.

He laughs. "Forever, then."

You hum contentedly, pressing closer against his chest. "Phillips-Devlin is a little long, don't you think? I never wanted a last name that was too long."

"No?"

"No. I think I'll be Alesha Devlin."

Matt hugs you tightly, sounding thrilled. "Matt and Alesha Devlin. Sounds amazing, doesn't it?"

You sigh contentedly. You're almost positive you've never been so comfortable in your entire life. "Sure does."

You remember the night Matt proposed so clearly it's as if it happened yesterday. He had invited you, Ronnie, and James out for dinner at your favorite restaurant, as the four of you had just completed a particularly difficult case, Matt and Ronnie finding the evidence that enabled you and James to secure a conviction at the last minute. The four of you were in a celebratory mood as you arrived at the restaurant.

"Hope you made reservations, Sunshine," Ronnie remarked, eyeing the queue ahead of you.

"Course I did!" Matt answered cheerfully. "They're under 'Phillips-Devlin-Brooks family." Then he frowned. "Or was it Brooks-Philips-Devlin? Or maybe Devlin-Phillips-Brooks-Steel –"

You socked him playfully on the arm. "Matt!"

He grinned. "My bad, it was just Devlin."

You, Ronnie, and James just had to laugh at his innocently teasing face. You knew Matt Devlin would always have a special place in all of your hearts – a cheerful, joking, eternally sunny place. And he was all yours… soon to be even more so.

The overall impression you remember from most of that night was just plain fun. Ronnie and Matt were always an entertaining pair, and the two of them had managed to keep you and James – as well as each other – in stitches for the entire meal. Looking back, it was probably a miracle that any of you had managed not to choke. And then afterwards, while you were all waiting on dessert, the mood had suddenly shifted, becoming quieter, almost expectant, although you had no idea why. But then Matt had pulled a small box out of his pocket and gotten down on one knee, and before you knew it, the four words you'd waited most of your adult life to hear the right man say had come out of his mouth.

You didn't even need to think about your answer. Matt Devlin was _definitely_ the right man.

"Yes!"

Matt's smile was gorgeous as he slipped the beautiful engagement ring onto your finger, while Ronnie and even James had cheered raucously, resulting in a round of applause from the rest of the establishment as well. You rather thought the applause was well-deserved. After all, you and Matt made a very cute couple, even if you did say so yourself.


	3. Matt

Chapter 3: Matt

In your time as a Detective Sergeant, you've seen quite a lot of things that can only be described as disturbing, strange, unsettling, etc. Consequently, you've accrued a mild paranoia for quite a few odd things, like, for example, having one's kidney surgically removed and stolen in the middle of London. You're fairly certain that you don't really have to worry about that one in particular, but ever since that case, you've never been quite comfortable with ruling it out. Nonetheless, though, there are very few things that you would admit to being genuinely _afraid_ of. Being a father is one of them. But it's one you're going to have to face.

You and Alesha have been married nearly a year now, and you know without a doubt that this is the only thing you've ever wanted and needed in life. You have Ronnie, your best mate and surrogate father, and you have Alesha, the most incredible woman in the world, who for some reason that you can't quite fathom decided to marry you. And in just a few months, you'll have… a baby. An actual living, breathing, tiny, helpless person, who relies entirely on Alesha and on _you_. And you're not so certain that that's really the best of ideas, because there are things a father is supposed to do, aren't there? You're pretty positive that there are; the problem is figuring out _what _they are. After all, your own father wasn't exactly what you'd call a role model. Well, not unless you want a role model for drunkenness and subsequently violent behavior. Because that's all you really remember about him. A lot of alcohol and a lot of fear and a lot of pain. When he wasn't drunk, he almost always ignored you. So. What is it that a father does, again? You'd better figure it out fast…

The day Alesha told you she was pregnant, you could tell she was worried about something. Because of your jobs, both of you spend a significant amount of time listening to people lie. Consequently, when you're at home, you make a special, conscientious effort to be entirely open and honest with each other. As such, it's always easy for either of you to see when the other has something especially momentous or worrying to report. So you swallowed your own nervousness, took her hands, kissed the tip of her nose, and asked what was wrong.

Her answer was nothing. Nothing was _wrong_. It was just… big. Huge, actually. Because she was pregnant.

You knew her reluctance to tell you had been because she was nervous about how you would feel. She was well aware of your childhood issues, and that they had left you all but terrified of starting a family of your own. But before you married Alesha, you agreed that if the two of you were meant to have children, then you would have children. You, personally, wouldn't do anything to hinder the process, no matter how apprehensive you were. And now it had happened. But you didn't want her to think you were unhappy. Honestly, you weren't. You were excited at the idea of a baby… just not one that relies quite so heavily on you. That didn't matter, though. It wasn't the time to worry. It was the time to hug your wife and to let yourself be excited and to worry about what a baby would actually mean… sometime later.

Well… it's sometime later. And to be perfectly honest, you're panicking. Alesha is so big now, and she looks absolutely gorgeous. You always thought that "pregnant glow" that people talked about was a myth, but in Alesha's case, it's absolutely true. And she's just so _happy_, you can't help but feel happy too when you're around her. It's when she's not there that's the problem, because that's when everything starts to fall apart. You can't do this. You don't know how. You'll only screw everything up. You _can't do this_.

You'll never be able to forgive yourself if you hurt your child the way your father hurt you. God, that thought alone is terrifying. What if your son or daughter ends up carrying the same scars of the same kind of broken childhood that you carry now?

"Matt!"

You jump, startled, as Alesha enters the room. You hadn't heard her come in. "Everything all right, love?"

She watches you closely. "I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm fine," you assure her hastily. "What's going on?"

She smiles brilliantly. "The baby's kicking! You have to feel this!" She takes your hand and presses it against her rounded stomach.

There's a brief pause, during which you hold your breath nervously – and then you feel something, a quick, small bump against your palm. That's really a baby in there – _your _baby. And suddenly, you can't hide it anymore.

Pulling Alesha into your arms, you hold her tightly and rest your forehead against hers. She holds onto you just as tightly, and you know she can feel your fear. She's waiting for you to be ready to talk about it on your own. Finally pulling back just enough to look her in the eye, you break the silence.

"What if I can't do this, 'Lesh?"

She presses a hand to your cheek, her fingertips brushing your hair. "Oh, Matt…" She sits on the couch and pulls you down next to her, pulling you close. "I know what you're afraid of, sweetheart. Believe me, I do. And I know there's not much I can say to make you feel any better. But I just want you to know… I believe in you." She kisses you softly, and then looks you in the eye for a long moment. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," you answer earnestly.

"Okay. Then since I believe in you, and you trust me, please, Matt… just try to believe in yourself. All right? I just want you to be able to believe in yourself the way I believe in you."

You don't know if you can. Honestly, you don't know if you can find that kind of faith in yourself. But you'll try for her.

"I'll try. I promise."

~ LOUK ~

The baby is coming. The baby is coming. Oh God oh God oh God the baby is coming. You can feel the panic welling up inside of you again, and this time, with the actual birth so near, you can't seem to find a way to control it. As a matter of fact, it's gotten so bad that Alesha's doctor actually asked _you_ if you were okay the last time she was in the room, and the nurse who comes in to check on her periodically keeps giving you odd looks. You don't want to be this afraid. Alesha's the one having the baby, she's the one who's dealing with the real pain here, and yet you're the one who's consciously fighting not to hyperventilate.

You jump about a mile when your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you don't miss Alesha's pitying smile as you pull it out and check your messages.

"Ronnie's here." Is that really your voice? That doesn't sound like your voice.

"He's here now?"

"Yeah. Right outside in the waiting room."

Alesha squeezes your hand. "Go see him."

"Are you sure?"

She manages to laugh. "The baby's not about to fall out of me. I'm pretty sure you've got some time." You're still reluctant to leave, but she insists. "Matt, I can tell you're panicking. When this actually happens, I'm gonna need you to _not_ be panicking. So go talk to your dad. He'll help you. Okay?"

"My dad?" you repeat with a slight smile.

She raises an eyebrow and switches over to what you've deemed her 'lawyer voice.' "Do you deny it, Mr. Devlin?"

"Mister?" you ask with mock indignation, heading for the door. "It was DS Devlin last time I checked." Then, just before the door closes behind you, you add, "And no… no, I don't."

Just as he'd said, Ronnie is waiting for you in the room down the hall. When he sees you, you can tell he's tempted to tease you for being so nervous, but then, when he registers the very real fear in your eyes, he doesn't. Instead, he reaches out and grips your shoulder bracingly.

"Why are you so scared, Matty?" he asks softly.

"Why?" you repeat incredulously. "Because Alesha's right down that hallway about to have my baby. Because I don't have the slightest clue how to be a dad. Because my father was a bastard, and I'm bloody terrified of turning out just like him!" By the time you finish, you're breathing heavily and your heart is racing, all but having a genuine panic attack. Ronnie doesn't say anything. He just pulls you into a tight hug.

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, son. _Nobody _automatically knows how to be a dad. It doesn't matter if you had a proper dad of your own or not; nobody knows what they're doing. And Matt…" He pulls back, his hands resting on your shoulders as he looks you in the eye. "I have never met anyone in my entire life who is less likely to hurt a child. All right? Just the fact that you're so worried about it tells me that it won't happen." He hugs you again. "I'm a dad. Hell, I'm practically _your _dad. I know you. I know what you are and what you aren't. And I know that any child would be lucky to have you for a father."

You let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, and Ronnie grins, tousling your hair affectionately. You can't help laughing. "Cut it out, _Dad_," you say, emphasizing the last word.

He laughs, too. "See? You'll be fine. Now get back in there and hold your wife's hand."

~ LOUK ~

"It's a girl!"

You can't believe it. There's a nurse standing there right in front of you, holding your baby. Your little baby girl. She's absolutely gorgeous – the baby, not the nurse. The thought makes you laugh nervously, and the nurse once again has a reason to look at you strangely. You really wish you could stop giving her the opportunity to do that.

By the time you've terminated this train of thought, the baby is wrapped up in a light pink blanket and the nurse is depositing her in her mother's arms. Alesha's never looked so beautiful. You can tell she's exhausted, worn out, and still in pain, but the smile on her face when she looks at your newborn daughter is practically angelic. You don't know what to do, so you settle for squeezing Alesha's hand, the smile on your face mirroring hers, silently telling her how proud you are and how much you love her.

And then, all too soon, she says the words you've been nervously awaiting since the day you found out you were going to be a father.

"Do you want to hold her?"

"I… I don't… " You fumble for words, suddenly at a loss.

Alesha shakes her head, gives you a pitying smile. "Matt. It's okay. I promise."

"But what if – what if I drop her or something?" you blurt out.

She lets out a frustrated, slightly amused huff. "Take the baby, Matt. Everything will be fine. Okay? Just _hold her_ for a minute or two."

Reluctantly, you reach out and allow her to place the baby in your arms. You take her awkwardly at first, not entirely certain of what to do – and then she begins to fuss quietly, upset at the sudden loss of her comfortable position, and you automatically cradle her against your chest, holding her securely. She calms almost immediately, nestling against this new source of warmth. You can't help staring in amazement. You've never seen anything so perfect. You brush a fingertip over one of her tiny hands, and her little fingers grasp at yours, holding onto you tightly.

"Oh my God…" You gasp faintly, and your vision blurs as tears suddenly fill your eyes, countless emotions fighting for dominance as your daughter holds your hand.

When you finally look up at Alesha, her own eyes are shining as well. "Do you feel like a dad yet?"

You're not even bothering to try to check the tears flowing down your cheeks. "Yeah," you manage finally. "Yeah, I do."

~ LOUK ~

It's been a few hours now since your daughter was born. Alesha and the baby are both asleep. The nurse told you you don't have to hold her the entire time she naps, but you can't bring yourself to put her down. So now you're sitting in a rocking chair by the window with your feet up on the sill, still holding your little girl. The nurse had just left, and for once, she didn't look at you as if there was something wrong with you. This time, she had smiled understandingly and left you alone with your family.

Your _family_. It's amazing how beautiful that sounds. You've never had any real sense of the word before, and now that you do, it's nearly overwhelming. You have a family now, a proper one: an incredible wife, a perfect little daughter, and a surrogate father who's so much more of a dad than your real father ever was. For the life of you, you can't remember why it was that you were so afraid. This is everything you've ever wanted.

You're slightly startled when the baby begins to fuss, waking up from her nap. You know she's not hungry or in need of a diaper; Alesha fed her and you changed her just before the two of them fell asleep.

"What's wrong, Little One?" you whisper softly, rocking her gently. "You didn't want to wake up, is that it? I know that feeling." You press a light kiss to the top of her head. "You can go back to sleep. It's okay." She continues to squirm, whimpering quietly. "Okay… well, um…" What was it that people did to get babies to go to sleep? Sing to them, you suppose. Now if only you could remember any of the things that were traditionally sung to babies. Seriously, anything. Anything at all.

Nothing comes to mind. Well, except for one thing. It's not exactly a lullaby, but it'll do.

"_Siúlaigí a chairde, siúlaidh liom, mar cheo an tsléibhe uaine ag, imeacht go deo. D'ainneoin ár dtuirse leanfam an tslí thar chnoic is thar ghleannta go deireadh na scríbi._

"_Seo libh a chairde is canaidh liom, líonaigí'n oíche le greann is le sport. Seo sláinte na gcarad atá imithe uainn mar cheo an tsléibhe uaine, iad imithe go deo."_

"What is that?"

You look up, startled, to see that Alesha is awake. "It's… well, I don't really remember, to be honest. I don't even remember when I learned it. It's Gaelic."

"Do you remember what it means?"

"Not really," you admit. "In English it's called 'Wander My Friends.' I think the words are actually kind of sad, but… well, I didn't think she'd mind." You glance down at your daughter, again fast asleep in your arms.

"It's beautiful," Alesha says quietly, giving you a small smile. She holds out a hand, and you reach out to take it. "I told you you'd be a great dad."

You suddenly feel choked up again. "Thank you. For believing in me. For loving me. For everything."

She presses your hand to her lips, kissing the tips of your fingers. "I love you, Matt Devlin."

You move closer to her bed and return her kiss. "I love you, too."

* * *

A/N: The song Matt sings is 'Wander My Friends' from the Battlestar Galactica soundtrack. It's a variation of the Adama family theme, which is the musical theme for Jamie Bamber's character and his father on the show. I thought it would be fun to make the song a bit of a crossover since it made such a big impression on me. It's definitely worth a listen if you've never heard it.


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